Learning How to Set Goals: The Best Running Incentive

My favorite running buddies:
I realized today that my favorite running buddies are, without a doubt, my kids. Don't get me wrong - there's definitely something to be said about running with a fellow adult runner who can potentially push the pace, and supply, or listen to, actual adult conversation. With kids, though, the raw excitement and awe that exudes from their wiggling, squirming, bodies as they stretch around the sides of the stroller are such contagious emotions, that I can't help but want to push forward and soak in every detail of every curve ahead along with them. Pushing my double stroller can sometimes feel like I'm pushing a ton of bricks through sand. I would push ten tons of bricks down the longest beach on the planet, though, if I got to listen to the accompanying soundtrack that includes the giggles, the incessant questions, and the made-up songs that stream from the two fantastic little people bouncing around ahead of me. I've heard of moms who refuse to schedule runs with their kids for fear of feeling selfish. Considering my three-year-old jumps around the room like an exhilarated, electrified wind-up toy at the mere mention of a "family run," I've never felt in any way selfish for strapping my kids in the stroller and "dragging" them along as extra resistance and cardio training. Just as a precaution, though, I sometimes plan my routes so as to hit a park along the way. If the run doesn't include a park stop, the end of the run will most likely turn into a game of tag between the 3-year-old and the stroller - squeals and giggles erupting from all involved. All in all, I pretty much earn the "Mom of the year" award every time I include my kids in my training plan.

I actually can't think of a single run with my kids that hasn't left me exponentially more energized by the end than when I started. Running with my first daughter when she wasn't much past the "baby blob" stage was certainly rewarding - I was convinced that I was setting some kind of positive example and was getting my pre-baby body back. But running with her as an actual little person - someone with whom you can actually rationalize; someone who also has a painfully accurate and blunt sense of observation - is not only rewarding, but it's absolutely fascinating. At this age, neither girl has any reservations and so gush support and excitement automatically whenever offered an opportunity. At the same time, they're both enormous sponges, waiting eagerly for any new piece of wisdom to soak up and then spit back out when you least expect it.

What is a goal?
So, on a recent run, I attempted to throw in something new and hopefully give my older one something to soak up. I threw out, and then did my best to explain, a term that most adults, me included, still have trouble grasping and understanding. Not actually expecting her to fully comprehend the meaning, I told my daughter that I was going to set a goal. So our latest lesson: What is a goal? In trying to define a goal, in little-person terms, I told her that my goal was to reach the end of the road (three-quarters of a mile ahead), even though I thought it would be hard for me to keep running to the end. I explained that a goal was something that was hard to finish, but we tried to do it anyway. Her response: "Mmm." So maybe that one went in one ear and out the other. She cheered me on for the full mile anyway. (I ended up running an extra quarter mile with "Go Mom, go! I BELIEVE in you!" coming from the little beaming face that watched each step of the way - who wouldn't want to run that extra bit just to hear more of those words in that adorable little voice, especially when they sound more like "Do Mom, Do!")

The interpretation:
Finally, in reaching the Stop sign that marked the end of the run, we all broke out into hoops and hollers (the baby included). "Woohoo!" I heard myself yell. "We did it! We made our goal!" Just to see if I had at all succeeded in my attempt to try and teach by example (setting a goal and pushing forward, even though I thought it might be tough, to reach that goal), I asked the munchkin if she remembered what a goal was. Her response: "Reaching."

In a single word, my three-year-old summed up a painfully difficult concept with a far better definition than I could have ever composed. And with that single word, she gave me a new perspective on what it really means to set a goal: we set goals for things that seem out of reach and then do what we can to ultimately reach as far as we need to so that those same things are right in front of us. The best part is, for a three-year-old, there's no reason not to figure out a way to reach far enough. Her sense of reality is so straightforward and her optimism spills from every pore of her being that success for anyone seems obviously inevitable.

So while an adult running buddy can help me pace myself or can fill me in on the latest gossip as a distraction, I'd much rather take every opportunity to set goals, and then push through any mental blocks to achieve them, for my pint-sized running buddies. It also doesn't hurt to have my very own cheering section whenever I need an extra boost!

A Runner In The Making

My dad sometimes says "Life's tough, and then you die." On separate occasions, mimicking a classic Monty Python sketch involving a nun, I've often heard him squeak, "I'm not dead yet!" By the transitive property (if a=b and b=c, then a=c), I think he's on to something.

And I wholeheartedly agree - life's tough, but I'm not dead yet! Sometimes to prove that to myself, I need to just run. When things don't seem like they'll ever go my way and I'm using all of my energy to just fake it till I make it, especially on the days I have my girls, sitting on my couch and making excuses to skip my run are usually pretty tempting. And I'm definitely one who has a hard time resisting temptation. My three year old, in particular, tends to use up quite a bit of my energy stores with her constant "testing" of her boundaries and my accompanying continuous efforts to think of ways to turn each toddler vs. mom scenario into a lesson. 

But today, my apartment seemed claustrophobic and I had a pressing need to get outside. I can usually talk myself out of a late afternoon or evening run with the stroller, since the smooth, steady motion tends to put to sleep the three-year-old who no longer naps. This is problematic if I care about getting her to sleep before midnight. Today I needed a change, though, and at 5pm she was still looking bright-eyed and bushy tailed. I was hopeful. To get her more excited about the run, I gave her the choice of leaving in ten minutes versus twenty minutes. She chose the latter, which gave me some extra time to get dressed and load up the stroller, so I asked her if she wanted to help me choose my running clothes. She was thrilled at the chance to help and chose my black workout pants and a pink tank top. (I couldn't have picked better, myself.) Finally, I asked her if she wanted to help load up the stroller and she jumped at the opportunity. We threw in her doll, a water bottle, my phone, and her baby sister, and were ready to head out. As a last minute thought, we decided to throw in the baby's new towel with a hood as I noticed the skies were turning a dark grey. 

The Run:

Length: 2.93 miles

Time: 30 minutes (32 minutes total with 2 minutes of stopping time to get something for a kid)

The route: 

We took a quick warm-up walk to the mailboxes to mail some thank you notes and bills. From there, it felt pretty easy to start up running. Usually I start my runs with the stroller somewhat slower, with a painful, choppy stride. My knees tend to hit the top of the back seat, so it usually takes some extra time to adjust and develop a gait that doesn't involve lifting my knees as high. 

Today was different. Today, with my iPod already playing at a low volume in just one ear, and both girls yammering away, starting up seemed smooth and effortless. While I don't think the baby has a preference as to speed, my older daughter always waits impatiently for me to pick up the pace and start running. Today was no different and she let out a loud "Yay!! Are you running?" as I loped forward. I warned her that today might just be a slow and steady day. Of course she asked Why (as most three-year-olds do at every available opportunity) and I told her that today was just going to be a relaxed run. She seemed to be ok with that answer, so we moved along without any expectations. 

I ran a modified version of the "run around the block" I usually follow if I have the stroller, or when I'm on my own and I can't muster up the creativity to plan a new route. This route usually traces the main roads near my apartment complex. We basically follow a big box and each time we make a turn, it usually marks a mile.  Tonight, the sun wasn't quite close to setting, so I decided to take a bit of a shortcut along the Spring Creek Trail. I ran the "run around the block" a couple nights ago and I needed a change of scene. The run remained fairly uneventful and I just kept pushing slowly along, allowing myself to take the pace down a notch if I started to get a bit more winded than I wanted to. The time flew by as I listened comfortably to a relaxed playlist and did my best to answer all of the questions that flowed from the tiny voice in the front seat of the stroller. 

Is it my turn, yet?

When I felt I had run a solid 3 miles or 30 minutes (I can rarely tell which one I hit first), I stopped the stroller and asked the munchkin if she wanted to get out and go on her own run. Of course she did. At this point, we were about a half mile away from home, and she took off running ahead of the stroller. I expected her to slow down or to stop and want to walk before we hit the crosswalk to cross the street to home. But she didn't slow down and rather than walking to cool down, I ended up throwing in a few more minutes of jogging, albeit it pretty slow jogging. She lately has to always be in front of me, regardless of whether or not we're walking or playing or jogging down the path next to our apartment, and I usually tell her that she's welcome to be ahead me as long as she's quick enough to hold me off. Tonight, I let her keep her lead and she squealed with giggles every time she heard the strolling getting a bit too close.As she awkwardly mimicked an endurance running, with arms and legs not quite in sync and elbows flailing, she called back to me to tell me she had her [imaginary] iPod in and she just got to a great song. I couldn't help but chuckle, until she started singing along to an imaginary song that she was making up as she ran, at which point I burst into laughter. Finally, after holding my hand across the cross walk, she slowed to a walk just before the path that leads to our door. She claimed it was time to walk because she was at the end of her run. It was just too much for me to handle and I immediately gushed that I just loved her. I got a non-chalant "Yeah." 

Finally at our door, I bent down to start rooting for keys. When my daughter proudly exclaimed "I had a great run! I did a great job!" I realized that this is the reason I need to get up and go. This is the reason I take them with me. The two little people who stared up at me as I unlocked the door are the very reason I need to keep "faking it till I make it" on some days. And getting in my run, any kind of run, is the best way to do that. 

Passing People in the Dark

Running in the dark:

I've decided that the best way to train during the summer in Colorado is to go for a run just after the sun sets. Not dusk, but about a half hour after dusk, where you can immediately slip on the cloak of darkness as soon as you slink beyond the scope of the porch light. It's cooler then, less muggy, and any audience is most likely blinded by the dark. I actually get pretty nervous running in the dark, mostly because I live alone and don't want to slip away into the night without someone noticing my absence until the next morning. So, on the evenings I choose to workout after sunset, I tell a friend my self-imposed curfew, where I plan to go, I grab my phone, and then run like a bat out of hell to stay one step ahead of the Bogey Man. Despite the threat of said Bogey Man, it turns out there's actually a significant population of runners who prefer to squeeze their miles in just before they slip in to bed. 

Most of these fellow PM runners don't get the heebie jeebies from any number of strangely shaped shadows the way I do, which is probably why summer is actually my favorite running season. On a night run, when I come up behind someone lumbering along comfortably and probably relishing in the availability of significantly cooler temperatures, I breathe a barely audible "Excuse me: on your left," and then whiz by. Not only do I scare the bejeezus out of that runner as I effortlessly skirt around them (I bet you didn't know how many ways there are to jump when you're startled!), but then I quickly piss them off as they realize they just got passed ... by a girl! 

Tonight's Run: 

The above description was tonight's run in a nutshell. I needed to get in some movement after an entire day spent in my apartment, working on home projects and applying to several jobs online. I didn't spend much time with other people today and I didn't have my girls tonight. Needless to say, I needed to remind myself that there were real human beings outside the plain walls of my little apartment. As I ran tonight, I felt quick and comfortable, and I surprised myself by effortlessly passing each runner that shared my nighttime running venue. When I hit the end of the route I had dictated to a friend after only 25 minutes, I decided that I was satisfied with the run, and so let myself slow to a peppy walk. As I strolled home, another runner - a woman - zipped by me and propelled herself effortlessly up the tiny hill I was using as a cool down. 

Who is my real running competition?

As soon as I was passed, my competitive self launched into a rant about how I was just as fit as the woman disappearing ahead of me; I was just taking an easy day and maybe she was just starting her run. I heard the little voice in my head begin to make a laundry list of excuses or comparisons.

And suddenly, it hit me: Why am I trying to be anything but what I can be right now? 

Cue parallel analysis to the rest of my existence. Sometimes I can't stand when my brain needs to scrutinize, probe, and dissect every detail of my current reality to make any sense of it. I'm pretty sure this is a subconscious attempt at making some sort of momentous revelation so I can hurry up and figure out the moral to be learned and move on already. In the last couple of weeks, my conscious mind has made it especially clear that it won't rest until any emotional pain has been properly turned into a handy piece of knowledge. And there's a lot of emotional pain right now. So when the automatic response to watching another runner pass me turned into even more internal analysis, I started to shut down. But then came my "Aha moment" (the above question about being the me I can be), which abruptly sorted every strain of analysis into nice, neat little compartments. And the internal interpretation stopped. 

It sounds totally cheesy, but the revelation was so simple and so suddenly clear, it was as though the clouds (or stars, in this case) had parted and a ginormous hand had reached down to pass me the memo I'd been missing. My lesson to be learned seemed to be this: There's no reason to hang on to what used to be, because those moments will never again happen in exactly the same way. Duh, I'm pretty sure I actually knew that. But I suppose that when it comes to letting go, we're pre-programmed to want to project the same happiness or victory into any future moments that originally helped to define certain moments from our past. There comes a point in every run, every race, every situation, and every relationship where we have to accept that change is inevitable and a part of the process. We change physically, our strategies change, our appreciation for different parts of the experience change, and we become different individuals in the process. Rather than doing everything we can to hold on to the exact details of how it used to be in order to replicate that same chain of scenarios and the same accompanying feelings, I'm convinced we can make a conscious decision.  We can look back with recognition and a smile, or we can take the necessary lesson associated with the experience and store that feeling and memory away in a vault, along with other pieces of the past.  

Grief is good, but it's a process: You can't be a high school runner forever!

There is certainly a grieving process involved in letting things go and in allowing the possibility of future outcomes that, at one point, seemed improbable or maybe even impossible. And part of that grieving process includes complete denial and a stubborn refusal to accept any forward movement, away from the era that has just ended. I'm no exception to this. I'm currently smack dab in the middle of the stubborn denial stage in a handful of areas of my life and am comfortable that I'm sitting stubbornly in that stage. It's part of the process, right? It's definitely a confusing and mentally challenging stage to be in. I keep trying to imagine futures that exactly replicate the very thing that I know is over. But I know that I can't live in this stage and that I won't stay here forever. Change will find me, even as I try to run away as fast as I can and hide among the dark shadows after dusk. 

Back to the woman who passed me up the hill: Good for her. Hopefully she felt as energized and spritely as I did at the beginning of my run. I don't have to be better than she is, nor do I have to be far ahead of the curve in cross country running as I was in high school, where I could pass competitors left and right, and then run for hours more. And I'm certainly not "out of shape" now just because my knees might get a bit more tender after a run, or an hour run seems like the endurance event of the century, or a marathon was biting off more than I could chew. It's just that it's not the same "shape." 

But why be anything other than the runner I am right now? Moving on, or just letting something be a memory rather than a hope for the future, doesn't mean completely giving up on the possibility of finding bits and pieces of those memories in slightly rearranged scenarios and outcomes.

And so it goes with everything else in my life. I can cry because something's over, or because its rare to be able to avoid the pain that comes with accepting the present moment rather than letting go of what could have been. Or I can even pout because someone else might still see the memory and see anything else as failure. But I'll probably still whiz by people through the summer darkness and when I'm done, I can smile in recognition as I cheer for the ones who pass me. 

Go Go Gadget Legs!

My legs felt like they were filled with lead today. So did my heart ... maybe they were just acting like mirror images of each other. I had an easy-paced song playing on repeat on my iPod, so that helped get me through the first 18 minutes. But as I got closer to my stopping point, it got harder to breathe and harder to push my legs forward. "Go Go Gadget Legs!" was the thought that kept coming into my head.

I finally turned off the busy street that I was on and into a neighborhood. Three houses down the block, I jogged up to the door, grabbed the bike propped on the front porch, and was off - back toward home.

I think I probably biked about 15 minutes, swerving and zooming around cars and down the bike lane. My quads were screaming at me to change gears, but the burn in my legs was nothing compared to the sting I couldn't shake from not having knocked on the door to say Hi. I could have kept riding, but too much time alone means too much emotional analysis and processing, so I decided to stop.

Today was the second day in a row of running. I can't say I'm necessarily back on track, but it feels good to have gotten out and burned some nervous anxiety. Maybe this way I'll be able to fall asleep before my insomnia kicks in.

And on a different note: today was my first brick workout (triathlon term for a workout with a bike ride, followed by a run). My workout was a reverse brick, so I'm not sure if it counts, but it was definitely nice to switch it up!

Find A Penny, Pick It Up ... And Then Grab A Heiny!

It's Hot! But hot is nothing compared to ...
If you're lucky enough to get yourself out the door on a hellaciously hot day, like today, it must mean something to run by an entire dollar bill! Hopefully I'll have great week ... considering this last week has been pretty painful. Maybe painful isn't quite the right word. Maybe "out of sorts" is better. Or even "numb," and "shocking," more properly fit the way I've barely propelled myself through most of this week in zombie form.

What came first ... the motivation or the run?
My mental state certainly contributes to my motivation in getting out the door for a run sufficient enough to add to my training log. The whole running thing seems lately like another item at the very bottom of my "To Do" list; an item that rarely gets crossed off that same list. I had to explain to my mother today that focusing on my own sanity during a divorce, while looking for a job, and then desperately attempting to build my network of friendly support in a new-ish town, definitely trumps watching the news or even keeping up with the public opinion around certain Supreme Court Justice nominees. I'm pretty sure running contributes to that sanity I crave ... and I can hardly squeeze that in these days. (So don't ask me to participate on any political panels on current, or somewhat current, events!)

So, over this past week of chaos, stress, and unexpected emotion, my mental state has been stuck trying to analyze and sort and compartmentalize every detail, while simultaneously trying to let through only the necessary number of tears needed to process those details. Needless to say, the energy that might get sent to my muscles, my lungs, or the connections between my brain and my legs during anything resembling a run, has been redirected. There's nothing left.


The things that threw me out of whack both took place on Tuesday. Today is Saturday. Today, after spending most of my energy trying to fake "normal" for my visiting mother and for my kids, I forced my shoes onto my feet and my body out the door.

The Run
It's hot as hell, so I wasn't expecting to go far. In fact, I almost started sobbing with the first step. But with each subsequent step, my breath came back and my lungs took over. My iPod is full of newly added music to push me through my attempt and I actually surprised myself by running for a full 20 minutes before taking a quick 2 minute walking break. The cloud cover helped with the blazing sun factor, so I was able to push through a total of about 40 minutes and even had a smile on my face before I walked back through the front door.

And on top of it, I found a dollar! I must be rich in luck! I think I'll save that very dollar to buy my next lotto ticket. Or maybe I'll just keep it stashed in my water bottle as my own personal good luck charm.

And if I have trouble finding my motivation for sticking to training in the future, my mother suggested that I attempt future runs with a Heineken in hand. I could drink away my sorrows while getting my run crossed off my list. Why didn't I think of this before??

How Long is a Marathon, Anyway?

When I mention to non-runners that I am in training for a marathon, I get a mix of responses. 
Some are encouraging: Wow, good for you! and That seems like it would take some serious commitment! What an inspiration! Others are annoyed or incredulous, as though extreme fitness and endurance is a serious lapse in judgement, or even a sin: You're nuts/crazy/insane!  or That's disgusting ... who in their right mind would want to put themselves through that?? But my favorite responses are: Oh wow, that sounds like quite the challenge! ... How long is a marathon again?


As a "runner," I have known for as long as I can remember that a full marathon is 26.2 miles, while a half-marathon is, logically, half of 26.2 (thus 13.1 miles).  Now that I have one marathon under my belt, I still remember how each chunk of miles felt and how excruciating it was to push through those last six to ten. I can also clearly recall how exhilarating it was to cross the finish line in one piece, trying to comprehend the distance I had just managed to cover. (I immediately burst into tears the moment I saw the finish tape.) So when I have to fill people in as to the distance I plan to race, it makes me feel that much cooler to throw out a number that could be up to ten times longer than the average Joe might attempt at any given time.

But over these past two months, as I tried to diligently put in the training miles, and then record the numbers into my training log, I would automatically take the time to relate my success or my failure of that day's run to whatever else was going on in my life. I am a self-described "over-analyzer" and I can't just turn off the relating and the analyzing. It just happens until all of my thoughts are compartmentalized into nice little boxes.

Finally, a couple weeks ago, there was just too much analysis and too much thinking going on. There's too much that can't be put into nice neat little boxes in my head. Although running, and exercise in general, is supposed to help alleviate stress and get the endorphins pumping, my marathon training turned into just one more stressor on my plate full of things that have been keeping me awake at night and things that cause sudden panic attacks, where it gets hard to catch a full breath. I didn't want to think about everything that I have to battle on a daily basis anymore. And that meant I didn't want to take any time during the day where it was just me and myself: "So, Hills, what's new?" No thanks.

So, in order to stop thinking and stop panicking, I stopped running.

In the last two weeks, I've run once. It was a night run, with my Mr. Wonderful and his dog, and we pushed each other only as fast as we could keep a somewhat easy stride with each other. We did a short 2.5 mile loop around the neighborhood and high-fived at the end. For that run, I didn't think about anything else but getting to be next to him and making sure I didn't run onto the furry feet of our four-legged running buddy.

Otherwise, I have been very hesitant to slip on my tenny-runners and turn on my iPod. It just seems like more work than it's worth. But I know that's not going to help quiet the analysis and eventually I'm going to have to face the ingrained need to compartmentalize the daily chaos and the turmoil that fills my consciousness. Eventually, it'll probably all come shooting back at me, like a shaken soda bottle, and rather than just be tired or annoyed with having to "think" about it, I'll be totally overwhelmed!

So, against my brain's desperate pleas to find something "more productive" to do, I'm going to inch back into this whole running thing with a yoga class. I'll have to quiet my mind and allow any discomfort into my head for an entire hour! And then maybe tomorrow, I might actually take the stroller for a spin.

I just need to keep reminding myself that, even if I don't actually race the entire physical distance I originally set out to do, I'm certainly still in training for a marathon. But my marathon isn't based on 26.2 miles, it's based on enduring my divorce, and on living through the "terrible threes" that seem to have suddenly consumed my angelic baby girl, and on surviving everything else in between that seems to take more energy than I have to give. There's no finish line in sight, but I know that I can keep plugging and keep pushing and I will make it through this in one piece.

Running IS NOT a fashion show!

Running the Numbers ~ Training Stats:

Training days to go: 63 (oh shit!)

Longest run to date: 9 miles 

Workout Stats:

Location: A big circle along the streets of Fort Collins

Time of day: 7:35pm

Time Running: 76 minutes

Planned Distance: 12 miles 

Actual Distance: 8 miles

But first, some thoughts on running fashion:
I like to say that I'm a runner who buys into the "hard core" or "old school" running philosophies. Those of us who follow such philosophies do not walk, we certainly don't jog, and we rarely worry about our sense of fashion in conjunction with our training. Old t-shirts, shorts that flow easily and breathe well, and shoes that have sufficient arch support and necessary cushioning are at the top of the list for workout attire. I have recently moved to wearing tank tops rather than old t-shirts, simply because they don't move around and help keep me cool. Although sports apparel and exercise shoe companies would have you believe otherwise, we "hard core" and "old school" runners are all about functionality. If it gets us from point A to point B faster than the other guy, we'll take it! 

So today, continuing with the "old school" trend and throwing fashion aside, I busted out the pigtail braids. When I wear my hair in a pony tail, it tends to loosen by the end of a long run and I'm slightly distracted by stray strands and fly-aways. When I put in the french braid pigtails, all of those fly-away strands are stuck in place and the entire braids seem to sway quite a bit less - two more things I don't have to worry about as I'm trying to pound out the last few miles of a long run. I probably look about 13, but I'm ok with it, as long as it gets me from start to finish with a more comfortable and faster run. (It's also not so goofy when worn under my running visor.)

The Run:
Fort Collins has been ridiculously hot (ok, for a Northern California girl, 85 - 90 degrees is pretty up there) and even somewhat humid, so in order to increase my chances for finishing the run I set out to do, I planned to start later in the afternoon or even early evening. I was ready to head out at 7:30pm, with no blazing sun in the sky and only a muted mugginess hanging in the air. The goal today was 12 miles, which I assumed would take about 2 hours. I started a bit late and was slightly nervous about running much in the dark, but I figured I'd get a minimum of 60 minutes in, hopefully 90, and go from there.  I figured I wouldn't concentrate on the total minutes or mileage, but instead just stay in the moment and go with the flow - something I've been trying to apply to other areas of my life lately.

Without much effort, I quickly fell into an easy pace - not too slow, not too fast - and let myself listen to the slower songs on my ipod. After about 5 minutes, I remembered that I needed to warm up and activate my hip flexors (according to my massage therapist), so I stopped quickly by a Stop sign, did a few leg swings and quick knee raises, and, before I was oggled by too many drivers slowing at the intersection (probably because of the braids!), moved on.

Overall, the run was fairly uneventful, but felt really good. (This could potentially have something to do with the extra pizza I had for dinner last night.) It felt like I kept up the same pace I set at the beginning and still felt fairly energized. I had no reason to stop. After about an hour, the sun was almost set and it was almost completely dark. In high school, I used to procrastinate on my homework by taking off for runs in the later evening, usually after dark, and ran until I couldn't run anymore. These runs would often last up to an hour and a half and usually left me more energized afterward. Around my hometown, it always seemed as though the darkness covered me with an invisibility cloak, where nobody could see me and nobody cared how fast or how long I was running. It was just me and the pavement. Tonight's run felt nostalgically similar and it seemed like as the sun set, I felt more energized, with more of a spring in my step.

I ran an entire hour without any breaks (unlike many of my previous runs), and only took a small walking break after 60 minutes when I felt my left hip start to "tweak" with every step. After a couple minutes of walking, I started up running again and felt so relaxed that I considered altering my pre-planned route to add a bit more length. After 76 minutes into the run, though, that left hip "tweak" started to get worse. This same annoying feeling was actually the culprit for barely making it to the finish line in my first marathon, so I decided that for tonight, rather than push painfully through to the end of the 2 hour mark, and probably have trouble walking for the next several days, I would end here. I figured I would also have to make sure to get in the yoga that I've been blowing off and start to make some hip strengthening exercises part of my regular weekly training schedule.

According to mapmyrun.com, my mileage for tonight's run was 8.64 miles. I'm not sure I was actually running 8:40 minutes per mile, so I would venture to estimate the total miles as closer to 8 or 8.25. Although it wasn't the full 12, it's better than putting a big old goose egg on my training log because I could have talked myself out of running after 7pm. My longest run up to now, 9 miles, was three weeks ago, so with a less than substantial training base during the week, getting in anything above 7 miles tonight was a success.

So now, I'm ready to bring on the braids, slather on the anti-chafe stuff, and run by the light of the moon.

For long runs, fuel yourself with pizza, not kisses!

10-miles, here I come:
Today was my second attempt to hammer out my first double-digit training run. I'm supposed to log 10 miles this weekend as my long run. My first attempt at 10 miles was yesterday, but I wasn't completely committed to the outcome, and felt done after about 3 miles, so I gave myself an extra day to mentally prepare and tackle the long run.

I even started narrating this blog entry in my head as I went through the motions of getting myself out the door. I was going to write all about my pre-run preparation routine that I'm starting to make a regular ritual before the longer weekend runs. I want to try and prepare for every possible weather and physical obstacle that may pop up when I'm on a run in order to better mentally tackle any other walls that pop up for me. Before I got out the door, I even started mentally narrating the key points of the warm-up and stretching session I'm trying to incorporate into my longer workouts. I actually preach the importance of a warm-up and some form of stretching to clients, but as in most other things in life, I also tend to consider myself the exception to the rule and never do it for myself. Last time I visited my massage therapist, though, she gave me a little finger wagging when I nearly jumped off the table from an attempt to dig into my overly tight hips. (It's always easier to take advice in my own field of expertise from other people rather than myself :) ). I was even excited to plot my run on mapmyrun.com and add a link to my blog to visually show my route and my accomplishment.

Or not?
But I most certainly failed at my attempt to finish the full 10 miles. Don't get me wrong - I'm not saying that I failed as a person, nor am I calling myself a failure. I'm not ending my run today hanging my head and kicking myself for my shortcomings. I did, however, roll my eyes a bit and allow myself a significant back-of-the-head-smack to jog my briefly skewed logic and priorities. Finally, I let myself take on the mantra that I don't fail at marathon training, or at anything else I'm attempting to tackle, unless I don't get back up again. So all I really need to take away from today is a slightly rearranged set of priorities to get my head back in the game and then just let it go. 

But before I had failed at finishing the pre-planned 10 miles, after spending what felt like an eternity getting ready to go (I had to apply petroleum product to my feet and most of my body to prevent chafing, apply sunscreen, secure my hair so I wouldn't be distracted by whispies, load my water bottle's fanny pack with my phone, key, and personal info in case of emergency, make sure my ipod was charged), I started my warm-up and off I went! I didn't necessarily feel "on" today, or ready for a long run, but I had the same issue two weeks ago when I tackled 9 miles and ended up logging a very uplifting and successful 9-miler. I figured I would just take the run ten minutes at a time to break up the mental hump of taking on 105 total minutes of running.

After 17 minutes, I let myself take a small walking break. Three minutes later, I was running again. Definitely a slower start, but I didn't want to push my pace until the very end, if I even had any energy left in my tank. At 22 minutes, I slowed down again, taking another short break before starting back up again. After 25 minutes, I was at the Spring Creek Park and decided to take a full-fledged bathroom and water break. I was completely aware that today's heat could throw a bit more challenge into today's run, but wasn't really expecting it to stop me up three times within the first 25 minutes. I figured I just needed to cruise through to the hour mark and take it from there. I was planning on climbing up the 'A' again today, and I could see it in front of me throughout the entire run thus far. If I could just focus on getting to the top, I would have no problem cruising back down.

Change of plans:
After 45 minutes of feeling like I could only mentally push through five minutes at a time without taking a 3-5 minute walking break, I started to feel like the "off" feeling might not subside as easily I thought it would. Feeling like I'm not completely physically ready for a run isn't an uncommon sensation for me, but it generally dies down after ten minutes, maybe fifteen if I'm really in a funk. But after 35 minutes, I felt like I was completely running on empty and couldn't shake it.

There is definitely a difference between overall tiredness or general muscle fatigue, and the kind of exhaustion that starts in your chest and radiates outward. I kept trying to practice my yoga breathing to regulate my breathing to match my stride, but couldn't seem to take a deep enough breath.

When I started to get the chills, a cold sweat, and a bit of dizziness every time I started back up running or stopped to walk, I began to leaf through my mental library of hours upon hours of logged physiology lectures and coaching seminars. Remembering that cold clammy skin and chills was a sign of heat exhaustion, which can be more deleterious than heat stroke, I decided that getting home in once piece, preferably in an upright position, was more important than finishing the full 10. Dammit!

So rather than get down on myself, I started to go over my training over the last couple of weeks to find the factor that might cause me to feel like I'm running on empty and one that might allow me to be much more susceptible to heat exhaustion. And in doing so, I realized that I still didn't feel like I could take a full breath. Hmm, how could this be? And then a little red light went on ... ding ding ding! I got it! I'm hungry! And I can't take a full breath because my stomach is cramping so much from being so empty. How have I not noticed this until now??

A quick rewind to a little factor in my training: I've been spending the last couple of weeks acting like a twitterpated, love-sick teenager.
At first it seemed like the extra serotonin boost I was getting from being in the early stages of a fun relationship would carry over to help motivate my training. Actually, it did in a way. A couple of my shorter runs have been more bursts of sprints with short walking breaks, than full-on runs. This seemed to benefit my ability to take on 5 miles at a reasonable pace, especially when I could pace myself on the treadmill, so I let myself leave my head in the clouds, daydreaming and drawing hearts. I figured everything else would fall into place.

When I thought of this not-so-tiny detail, this is when I gave myself the back-of-the-head-smack :). So, Love conquers all: true or false? ... Until my walk back home in the middle of my ten-mile-attempt, I would have sighed, smiled, and responded "True!"  "MEH!" (That's the sound of the annoying game show buzzer sound). False!! At least it's false if you ignore everything else! When I'm spending time with Mr. Wonderful, I barely remember to eat and sleep, let alone fuel my body for the training I committed to or rest up for intense physical activity. After a weekend together last weekend, I got home and found that my "skinny jeans" were too loose. This didn't seem like such a horrible thing, but I let myself overcompensate with LOTS of pizza and red beans and rice. I figured I'd earned it with my training.

Another tiny smack to the head ... I've been taking on some serious rookie running mistakes! My first mistake: vanity. I'm a seriously vain runner. For example, I don't like to walk where people can see me (I'm a runner, not a walker or a jogger). I am also very vain about how I look when I'm running. I know that runners come in all different shapes and sizes, but sometimes I let myself revert back to my high school running days, where our racing daisy dukes showed far too much leg. A couple pounds dropped here or there tended to take my mind off how my shorts fit and helped me better focus on running the race. (Sheesh! No wonder high school girls have eating problems! ) At this point, dropping a couple pounds simply because I get distracted by a smile, or a laugh, or a touch of a boy didn't seem like that big of a deal. I was letting myself be vain.

Mistake #2: I let myself believe that I could get through physically demanding training with the energy that comes from being completely twitterpated (I can't think of a better word :)) and figured that I could always just mentally dig deep to get the actual fuel and physiological energy I needed when the time came. MEH! (annoying buzzer sound). I seldom give my body credit for everything it does for me, partially because of my vanity - I tend to get annoyed with the way my legs rarely take on definition. They have always carried me through, though, especially with a little extra meat to them, and by loading up on pizza and rice last week, I was able to power through some really great runs. It wasn't the excitement of Mr. Wonderful that powered me through - it was stocking up on food while I wasn't with him. Ha!

So now I'm pretty sure I've reorganized my priorities, and will definitely start paying more attention to fueling my body properly with the food I need to take on the long stuff.

That being said, I'm starving. Anyone up for a $5 Hot N' Ready Large pizza from Little Caesar's? Too bad ... Get your own :).

An extra energy boost

Writing tends to be an outlet I use for negative energy when I need to sort out or analyze whatever chaos is collecting in my brain. Writing brings comfort and clarity, as does running, making these the seemingly perfect therapeutic combination.

But currently, I don't have negative energy, nor do I necessarily need an overload of comfort and clarity from my training runs. I met someone. And he's wonderful. And simply spending time with him, or listening to his stories, or feeding off of each other's laughter all give me superfluous amounts of energy to push through a long run.

I know it's important to be able to dig deep within myself to push myself through my limits, but I'm also pretty sure it can't be a bad thing to let myself ride an emotional high to get me through some tougher physical challenges.

We'll see: stay updated to see how my future long runs and speed workouts benefit, or don't benefit, from having a separate source of energy completely unrelated to my running.

Tomorrow's run: five miles with 6 minutes total uphill time ...

Ending on a good note ...

Running the Numbers ~ Training Stats:

Training days to go: 83

Longest run to date: 9 miles

Mileage last week: 16.25 

Mileage this week thus far: 19.25

Total training mileage: 75

Workout Stats:

Location: Timberline and Drake to Horsetooth to Shields to Spring Creek Trail

Time of day: 9:15am

Time Running: 90 minutes

Planned Distance: 9 miles 

Actual Distance: 9 miles

Sticking to my program this week has been a bit of a roller coaster. Monday's run ("Legs of lead") was a sad excuse for what I had hoped to plug into my weekly training, but a run nonetheless. On Wednesday, I was stuck in my head and was struggling with getting out for the allotted 4 miles. With a quiet but necessary boost from my uncle, I gathered enough control and courage to push through the 4 miles on the treadmill, and even added another quarter mile to the total. On Friday, I actually felt an itching need to get in the repetitive motion of throwing one foot ahead of the other. As the onset of tendonitis in my right ankle threatened to throw a wrench in future training, I cut the run shorter than the originally planned 6 miles. I'm also finding that the stroller is a great tool for short runs, while long runs, where a steady and consistent stride is imperative, are not the best workouts to take the girls with. 

Finally, this morning, I was faced with 9 miles. Up to now, I've found a reason to skip out on the weekly long runs that have slowly led up to today's distance, so I knew I had to buckle down mentally for a jump from 6.5 miles up to 9 miles. This number is a tough one for me - almost double digits, but not yet there. Thus is "shouldn't" be hard until it hits 10 miles, but it is. 

I knew that the stroller would not do me good today - I would most definitely find a reason to procrastinate ... again. So I asked a friend to babysit at 9am this morning, creating a fool-proof way to schedule the run and stick to it. At 9:30, I stepped out that friend's front door and started slowly forward. 

Finding trouble mentally playing with a total running time of 90 minutes, I instead took each mile at a time. This wasn't too painful, considering I live in a town with a grid system, so I know where each mile starts and ends. As that started to push my mental focus, the only thing that kept me going was a nagging thought, "What would my girls think if I quit? What kind of example would I be setting?" 

When I hit the half way point, I needed a little break. As a little voice inside my head started to scream at me that this was just another form of quitting, my increasingly positive voice interrupted with the findings of a study that showed women who took walking breaks had higher cardiovascular fitness because they were able to pick back up running at slightly higher speeds after the short breaks. 

By the end of the run, I had taken three 5 minute walking breaks, but tacked those 15 minutes onto the end of the run. I finished the entire 90 minutes of running and am only slightly sore after pushing myself through the wall. 

I'm also thinking it's time to paint my toenails ... one is already purple and will most likely fall off within the upcoming weeks.

What do I want to be when I grow up?

When I signed up for this marathon, I assumed that pushing my Energizer-Bunny-athletic Self, whose sense of competition used to do everything it could to come out on top, would carry over to influence my not-so-confrontational-lets-all-get-along Self that is currently dealing with a reality that feels as though getting hit by a train would be a welcome walk in the park. (Whoa, I think that thought was all one sentence!)

I've pushed through physical pain countless times. I've hit the wall in races and kept moving. I had two babies naturally, and could surely push through it again. I assumed my Self that tackles physical pain would get me through any mental or emotional challenge that came my way. But it seems like the influencing is going the opposite way. Instead of the marathon training helping me to get through the emotional side of a divorce and learning how to be a single mom, the Self that takes on getting through the chaos of each day is killing my running.

But there aren't multiple Selves, there's just me. And it's up to just me to find that spark inside to keep going.

Actually, I was getting really frustrated with the feeling that I couldn't do anything about rebuilding the energy that seems to drain right out of me the very second I get out of bed in the morning. Until a friend of mine told me that she read this. And it inspired her. Wow, I didn't actually expect this to be read, but it was, and it meant something to someone. I suddenly don't feel so helpless to what's going on around me.

To see what might have helped push her out the door, I reread a few things I wrote, and actually re-inspired myself. I took my own advice to my not-so-deaf audience and I renewed my own intent to just keep getting back on the horse and moving forward.

As a last boost of motivation, I leafed through a 3-ring binder I have stacked in my closet and pulled out a picture I used to have taped by my computer in college. It's a picture of 26-year-old Kate Major, now an international super star, who placed third in a 2005 Ironman Triathlon. As a college senior, I aspired to be her, or at least aspired to attack an unthinkable challenge the way she seemed to have done, as a young twenty-something, and then come out on top. I just taped that picture up in my bathroom and hopefully can remind myself of the way I always dreamed of taking on life's inconceivable obstacles when I grew up. (The pic is Kate Major, not me :) )

Legs of Lead

Monday, May 10:

Running the Numbers ~ Training Stats:

Training days to go: 89

Longest run to date: 6.5 miles

Mileage last week: 16.25 

Mileage this week thus far: 2

Total training mileage: 57.75

Workout Stats:

Location: Spring Creek Trail, down to spillway

Time of day: 5:30pm

Time Running: 20 minutes

Planned Distance: Rest 

Actual Distance: about 2 miles, maybe less 

The Run:
Life kicked my booty today .. and did not make an exception for the jog/plod/survival shuffle I forced into the later part of the afternoon. When I woke up at 7 this morning, I was ready to tackle the day and the chaos I expected to hit me head on. By noon, my "Bring it on!" attitude was utterly shattered, and was eliminated from every piece of the rest of the day. I thought I had the bull by horns in my legal battle, but it turns out, my hands are tied and for right now, I'm completely defeated. The only thing I can do is wait ... and pay my lawyer.

Which got me thinking: Can I even afford to run this marathon? Will I be able to take ten days off for a much-needed Tahoe vacation and a stop-off in Bend to test the training I've been logging and planning?

Without much hope and too many question marks dancing around in my brain, I almost kept myself cooped up in my little corner apartment to continue sulking and fretting. But with two rambunctious little wiggle worms, my girls were dying to get outside, so I promised Aspen a run. When you promise something to a 3-year-old, sometimes it's easy to divert their attention and they'll most likely forget the treat that was guaranteed. Not my 3-year-old: she'll repeat it thirty-five hundred times so that nobody could forget, even if they wanted to! So I had to get out and go for a run.

Luckily, I'm well equipped with the coolest running stroller ever! It's a double-stroller, but only single-wide. The older kid sits out front while the smaller or younger passenger is tucked in behind and below the front seat. It also steers like a dream! I can easily push it with one finger at a time. Love it. It also means I never have a good excuse NOT to go if I have my girls.

So, after bundling everyone up, I slowly maneuvered us out the front door. I lumbered down the walk and toward the front of the neighboring apartments and made up an excuse to keep at a walk as we got closer to the geese and their broods of goslings. This was a nice pace .. why not just stick to this?

No, no. As soon as we waved goodbye to the "baby geesies,"  I leaned forward and off we trudged, sluggishly switching from pushing with the right arm, then the left. I hadn't mentally planned a run so I just started moving. I ended up following the Spring Creek Trail down to the spillway to see if we could spot more goslings (they're actually pretty cute when they're yellow and look like walking puff-balls! And then they grow up ... and poop ... a lot). Anyway, at the spillway, we were SOL in terms of baby geese spotting, so we turned around.

Just a note: When you run along a creek toward a spillway, you go downhill. Which means, when you turn around, the whole way back will be uphill ... slick move, genius. Although it already felt like the weight of the world was on my shoulders today, it felt more like it had seeped through my pores and poisoned my body. My lungs felt filled with tar, and my muscles felt loaded with sludge. I was losing the uphill battle.

In the end, I gave up after 2 miles, maybe less. It was barely a shuffle. I convinced myself that, since I have 4 miles set for tomorrow's run, any kind of movement today would suffice.

Before we hit the apartments again, we stopped to watch our fox pups play along a nearby ridge that houses their den. The munchkins and I were suddenly all smiles watching them jump around and tumble down the hill. It's awesome what seeing something through the eyes of your child can do for your outlook. And then the world didn't feel so heavy anymore. Maybe tomorrow we should start the run passing our foxes.

Why run on the original "day of rest?"

Sunday, May 9th: Mother's Day:

I don't think I could have completed a half mile run today, let alone eight miles. I have been affected by a particular affliction today, sometimes known as "hair of the dog." Ok, yes, I'm hungover ... painfully so. I attended the Cinco de Mayo party at some friends' place in Erie last night. With everything that's going on lately, one might think that I could easily find reasons to frequent the nearby liquor store as a coping mechanism. One would have been correct a couple of months ago. But I actually haven't been contributing to the alcohol industry in the past month and a half or so. I don't like how I feel the next day, both physically and emotionally, and it keeps me awake. Not worth it.

But last night I used the party as a distraction and drank my face off - who would be able to help themselves anyway with a keg of belgian ale - mmmm. Needless to say, I was a very cheap drunk, who paid dearly for my over-consumption all through today. And on Mother's Day, too.

I wasn't worried that I didn't run today ... there was no voice in my head that even considered pushing me forward ... that little voice was sleeping off its hangover. I was just impressed with myself that I was able to load the kids, the camera, and the stroller out to Benson Sculpture Garden for a leisurely walk around the nationally renowned sculpture show.

Why would one schedule the long runs of training on Sunday, anyway: the day that was originally deemed the "day of rest?" (I guess running isn't really work per se, but it was just another logical reason to make myself feel better for nursing myself back to health rather than running for an hour and a half.)

"A" for Effort

Friday, May 7th:

Running the Numbers ~ Training Stats:

Training days to go: 92

Longest run: 6.5 miles

Mileage last week: 

Mileage this week thus far: 16.25

Total training mileage: 55.75

Workout Stats:

Location: Foothills Trail, North of the Dixon Reservoir

Time of day: 3:15pm

Time Running: 68 minutes

Planned Distance: 6 miles 

Actual Distance: about 6.5 miles 

The Run:

With the weight of the world on my shoulders after the beginnings of a painfully emotional day, I knew the best thing for me to do this afternoon would be to find my own rhythm of putting one foot in front of the other, relaxing my breath to fall in sync with my footsteps, and letting the awful self-doubt and anger in my head and my chest fizzle away.  Or at least just allow the endorphins kick in so that whatever was still left in my head wouldn't hurt so much. 

I was convinced yesterday morning, after talking with my beloved shrink, Maggie, that I really do know what is best for me and that I have the ability and knowledge to make the right decisions. It doesn't matter if someone else would have chosen a different way of approaching the same situation. I have to take on my own obstacles in my own way and I should feel confident that I'm coming out on top. 

But after several hours of dealing with paperwork, court house lines, and an emotional confrontation, I wasn't so confident in those decision-making abilities anymore. Everything hurt inside, my chest felt utterly constricted, and I needed to relieve some of the pressures of my world. 

So I jumped in the car and headed to the trail I ran on Monday. I had to run 6 miles, anyway, and now was as good a time as any. 

I was considering just running around the Dixon Reservoir again, but noticed a long flat-ish trail that sneaked out toward the north, on the other side of the road, so, taking a deep breath, I beeped my watch and started a slow jog. I actually almost gave up after three minutes because I didn't know how to feel energized enough for this run. But I just kept plodding along through a flat meadow. When the trail took a turn upward, I noticed that the trail is actually quite busy, and even better (at least in my brain), it took several switchbacks uphill toward Horsetooth Reservoir. Perfect - some uphill and then downhill - just like the race will be. The trail was pretty rocky, but a fun little obstacle course to take my mind off of the uphill battle I was slowly taking on.

Here is the trail I took -  I headed north and then snaked westward toward Horsetooth Reservoir. On the way back, I ran around Dixon Reservoir.

At an early fork of the path, I came upon two mountain bikers who were gauging the difficulty of the climb. They took off ahead of me, but a few switchbacks later, I caught up to the biker in back. Turns out, the biker in the back was a good friend of ours and we exchanged hellos as he motioned me through. I took off ahead of him, but suddenly I couldn't help but think that as a divorce separates most things, it tends to separate friends between spouses. With this thought clear in my mind, I sped up as I hopped over the hill of boulders in front of me, physically running away from his judgements if he only knew the reality of his friends' state of marriage. 

Finally, at the top of the hill, I was at Horsetooth Reservoir. I cross the street, took in the refreshing view, took an even more refreshing breath, and turned around to head back the way I came. To add a bit more time to the run, I ran a bit further up the hill after I had crossed back over the road. As the path narrowed, it became more overgrown and more littered with rocks and boulders. I noticed after a bit that I was barely running on path, but instead jumping around on rocks. All of a sudden, all those rocks were painted a fading shade of white. I had made it to the A (see picture)! I had figured this run would take a lot longer and was planning to attempt it later in my training. I continued to hop over rocks and head along the ridge line, until a sudden thought came to me: What if there are rattle snakes hanging out in these piles of rocks? It's getting close to dark and I'm not really on the "main" trail. Eek! So I turned around and flew back down the hill, now more energized on the descent. 

When I returned to the parking lot at 51 minutes, I still had at least 10 minutes to go, so I crossed the street and headed back toward the Foothills Trail around Dixon Reservoir and pushed through a few more ups and downs. Note to self: large swarms of bugs tend to congregate near water in late afternoon. I think I consumed more bugs than I blew away, but I was wearing a visor, so made my way around the reservoir with my head down so the bill of the visor could shield the swarms. 

68 minutes after I first took off, I walked briskly back to the car to cool down. My head was no clearer than it had been before my run, but at least the adventure had quieted the chaos on my head. 

I felt physically stronger after my run, but not mentally stronger. I tend to think of running as a panacea, but not this time. At least the ability to push myself through a tough course and exceed what I set out to accomplish aided in bolstering my self confidence, if only by a miniscule amount. 

On a positive note: Those extra minutes of running helped to make some room for an AMAZING celebration dinner for a friend's food critique blog: http://www.feastingfortcollins.com/

Let it go

I put my run off today. I didn't skip it all together, but, being the typical procrastinator, I saved it until tomorrow. This isn't the first time I've done this since I started marathon training less than three weeks ago. I was ok with the idea of taking one more day of rest before tackling 6 miles (this still isn't an easy distance for me), but as the day wore on, I started to get kind of annoyed with myself. I could have easily pushed through the lame excuses and forced time into my schedule to get it done. But I didn't. Why?

Why do I always consider myself the exception to the rule, which in this case is my training program?
Why do I always need to adopt an attitude of "Don't tell me what to do ... I know better than you do!"

When I start to take on these two ways of being, I tend to dismiss everyone else's input as BS, and I ultimately completely fail at the challenges I accept, however small or huge-mongous they may be.

So, as I let my brain battle over whether or not I failed at my marathon training today, I packed up the munchkins and shlepped everyone to yoga (well, the girls went to the gym daycare). Getting into my mindset of letting go of the day to prepare for the poses to follow suddenly resolved my brain's battle. Not because I wasn't listening to my own thoughts anymore, but because I realized I could do just that .. let it go!



I don't fail at marathon training, or at anything else I'm attempting to tackle, unless I don't get back up again. If I stick with my intention to lace up my shoes and push myself out the door at some point during my busy day of appointments and job searching tomorrow, I won't have failed. But if I don't let it go and allow myself to accept failure because I switched things up just once, I will have failed. It's ok to make things work for me ... that doesn't mean I'm being a naive know-it-all.

So my AHA moment for the day: Let go of what you've done and what you didn't do. Don't get attached to your successes or failures, but just focus on doing what you intended to do. And if you don't succeed, brush yourself off, pick yourself up, and try again ... in your own unique way.

At least the gym has a bathroom!

Tuesday, May 4th:

Running the Numbers ~ Training Stats:

Training days to go: 95

Longest run: 6 miles

Mileage this week: 9.75

Total training mileage: 49.25

Workout Stats:

Location: The gym: treadmill

Time of day: 4:30pm

Time Running: 44 minutes

Planned Distance: 4 miles with 5:00 TUT (total uphill time)

Actual Distance: 4.5 miles with 12 TUT

The Run:

Even though it was a gorgeous day outside today, I jumped on the treadmill to make sure I got in the allotted 5 minutes of uphill time suggested in my training program. The last time I ran 4 miles on the treadmill, I had to reach down to the bottom of my willpower to keep myself on that dumb machine for the full 4 miles. I wasn't really looking forward to a similar experience, but I wanted to get to yoga class after my run, so figured I would do a one-stop-shop. 

Turns out that, even on the sunniest of days, everyone and their mother wants to get on a treadmill ... weird. So I got stuck with the only treadmill left; the one that faces the window and looks out on the street. So now, not only was I going to try and drag out a full 4 miles while running in place, I got to look at everyone outside who was smart enough to soak up the afternoon sun. At least I wasn't facing the line of tv's that tend to play the history channel with "A Violent History of (fill in the blank)" or the food channel with "The Weirdest Food" programs (both of which are really hard for me to watch, but are even harder NOT to watch when they're right in front of me).

So, I begrudgingly started up the belt and jumped into my stiff start-up stride. At least when I'm on the treadmill, I can keep my beginning pace a bit slower to prevent burnout by the end of my run, something with which I tend to have serious trouble. 

I have rarely ever had issues with needing bathroom breaks during the middle of runs (aside from a vivid memory of desperately trying to find a Starbucks with available facilities while on a run in Puerto Rico), and didn't figure today would be an exception. But less than half way into my run, I couldn't hold out any longer. With as much grace as I could muster, I stopped the belt, prayed there would be a free machine when I got back, and stumbled toward the restrooms. I always feel drunk when I get off a treadmill - I'm sure I try to overcompensate for that funny feeling of floating forward when you're not really moving. 

Luckily, my machine was still free when I came back out, and it was easier for me to mentally get back into my rhythm. I only had 2.25 miles to go, but told myself I had 2.5. That way, if I was totally ready to quit by 2.2, I would REALLY only have just a few seconds left, as opposed to an entire extra lap around a track's length. Oh, the mind games we play with ourselves.

In the end, I actually ran 4.5 miles, instead of the originally allotted 4, and pushed the total uphill time from 5 minutes to 16 minutes. I also tried to wake up a few different groups of muscle fibers by pushing the elevation for as long as I could stand at a set pace, and then decreasing the elevation, but pushing the pace to the end of the run. 

So all my grumbling about using the treadmill just to get to yoga seemed silly in retrospect - I got to push myself longer and harder than I would have on the road. I was, however, the only one in yoga who was slipping all over my mat from lack of time to cool down and de-sweat before the class. D'oh!